


The Empire Rests On Its Edge

by taichara



Category: Xenogears
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:51:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his blade now returned to his hands, Citan finds himself having some soul-searching inflicted on him, rather than being the one delivering cryptic commentary.</p><p>It's hard going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empire Rests On Its Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsixwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsixwing/gifts).



Delayed in their departure from Shevat by the usual hundred little things requiring attention, Fei and the others had scattered to the winds and Citan found himself left to his own devices. It was as if, having delivered her 'gift' and her more pointed than expected comment, Yui was content to disappear from his sight altogether.

Well, it had been a long time since she had left. He could hardly blame her in that regard.

It also gave him the not-to-be-squandered opportunity to marshal his own wits. She'd put him more off-balance with that one masterstroke than all the events leading to this point, and he needed to find his centre again --

One of the myriad floating gardens would do nicely. 

Without so much as a mention of his intentions, he slipped away of his own accord and found one of the abandoned bowers, sinking to his heels before a snowy white seat. The sun shone all around him; but his attention was already turned inward, towards the shadows flickering there, even as he drew the blade that Yui had pressed upon him.

Lost in his own thoughts -- how rare in these benighted times, to be alone with his own thoughts! -- Citan locked his gaze on the sword that now rested in his hands, as if it and he had never parted. 

As if he had never surrendered it to the better blademaster. 

As if he had never concealed himself behind so many facades, layers within layers, that he could give a lowly onion from his garden (what a shame; the plants must be overtaken by pests and weeds, now) a worthy challenge.

But no, his own blade was returned to him. And as he tested the weight once more, inspected the edge that glistened like water for nicks and rust he felt the heavy wings of some other message beating unseen around him.

Yui had brought him his sword. The sword he carried as one of Solaris; the blade that symbolized his loyalty to the Emperor. The loyalty that bound him even now, layers within layers, plans within plans ...

_Yui knows. She must know. But she's never made a move to stop me._

_Worth the risk? Does she understand? Or is it something more?_

He suppressed a rueful chuckle. So, this was what it was like, to be on the receiving end of some cryptic mystery delivered directly to one, was it?

_I do not think I like it much. Ah, well, we all do as we must do, don't we --_

His musings were suddenly brought up short by the patter of hurrying feet, coming stampeding into the sun-lit cupola he knelt in. But before he'd so much as lifted his head, Fei had stammered a jumbled apology -- apparently believing 'Doc' Citan was meditating -- and retreated.

Citan sighed. He could have used the distraction; now he had no choice but return to his musings before they chewed through his mind altogether.

 _... Or are registered by the Emperor, which would be infinitely more irksome._

Wheels within wheels, layers within layers. He felt pulled in many different directions, something he'd never expected to contend with; after all, his allegiance was unviolable.

Wasn't it?

What if, some rebellious inner voice whispered, Emperor Cain is wrong? What if you're leading your friends -- do you remember that word honestly, Hyuuga, 'friends'? -- to their deaths, or worse?

_What was that Yui remarked? To be careful not to cut off my own foot?_

As if he'd make such a tyro's mistake, even years out of active experience with bladework. As if he'd ever thought she'd believe that of him ... and that, perhaps, was exactly the answer. 

She didn't.

But turn the words around, look behind the simple jibe at the good Doctor's expense ...

Be careful not to cut away part of himself. Yes, the scales could fall away quite nicely from one's eyes. But there was still so much at stake, so many debts, so many oaths.

Citan closed his eyes, bowed his head over the blade.

_... I will try, Yui. It will be hard, but I will try._

_Forgive me._

Around him, the roar of beating wings --


End file.
